My “drug-deals” in Canada had become somewhat successful. I’d travel to Montreal every 3 to 4 months, collect my money in checks, and head back to Colombia without a hitch. 
But, as things started to become problematic with security, I didn’t want to fly anymore. I decided to control everything from the beautiful office I shared with two other friends and colleagues behind the World Trade Center in Bogota.
My office looked more like the headquarters of a huge corporation than a nest of drug-traffickers. Wooden columns and marble tiles laid across the floor, and a long exquisite customized “retro” table took up space in the middle of the conference room. The bar was always stacked with an assortment of brands as well as the wine cooler which usually kept delectable authentic petit fours, fresh and preserved.
Not only did I conduct business within these four walls, but “stripper” parties where enjoyed once a week. No drugs around, just strippers. In every one of these occasions, 10 to 15 exotic dancers were hired to bare nude across the long table and around glassed drinks, slithering their curvaceous bodies like serpents to entice the men. It was more like our own private club. Some of the most respected drug traffickers in town engorged women and drinks well into daylight.
The women were selected from a catalog that Sandra with her gay friend provided as part of their gentleman’s business. Most of them were “respectable” ladies who worked their professional jobs on T.V. by day and moonlighted as strippers by night. The catalog also included beauty queens and models and even mothers who objectified themselves to earn a living.
My life consisted of dealing, womanizing, and becoming increasingly popular with the drug-lords since I was making them a fortune.
Just before sending another cargo to Montreal, and old friend of mine suddenly re-appeared. I had known him for more than 20 years. He quit “trafficking” to go into the restaurant business. He was a good guy but kind of naïve. He asked me for a job to fund yet another restaurant. He needed a hefty amount –$100,000 worth—to get it going.
I figured since he was a U.S. citizen, I could use him to collect the money from my people in Canada and get it to N.Y. where my connections would then transport it to Miami. It was a real solid crime ring and now, I could count on a reliable source that would monitor and see things through. I decided to offer him the “gig” and in 5 days, he was in Montreal.
During the 2 weeks he was there, everything ran according to my instructions.
Out of greed, I decided to go ahead and send another cargo to take advantage of his overseeing my “deal.”
He did everything he was supposed to until he committed a foolish mistake that put everything in jeopardy.
TONY ROCA THE AUTHOR 